Remember
by LightsPast
Summary: Written for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition round 4- Because remembering hurt, it hurt like someone was cutting his heart out inch by bloodied inch, and he didn't want to feel that way.


**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Round Four**

**Team: Montrose Magpies**

**Position: Chaser 3**

**Location Prompt: #3- The Burrow**

**Prompts: Stupid, Glasses, Dialogue: "Didn't we have fun though?" **

**Words: 1, 905**

* * *

He sat among the grass and flowers on the hillside, letting the wistful whistling of the wind echo through his head, empty his mind, so he wouldn't have to think. He didn't want to think. He didn't want to think, because thinking led to remembering and he didn't know if he could handle remembering right at that moment.

He didn't know if he could handle remembering ever again.

It was evening, silky dusk falling across the sky, and the stars that had once twinkled merrily to his eyes now seemed cold and aloof. Down at the base of the hill windows glowed warmly with amber firelight, dark shapes occasionally cutting through the radiance as people walked through the house. He, however, was sitting out here all alone in the cold, shunning the familiar, welcoming building. He didn't want to go inside. He didn't want to go inside because going inside led to remembering and he didn't think he couldn't handle remembering right at that moment.

He didn't think he could handle remembering ever again.

Because remembering _hurt, _it hurt like someone was cutting his heart out inch by bloodied inch, and he didn't want to feel that way.

So now all he felt was empty. As empty as the fifth floor bedroom.

All his life, he had never been alone. It was never just George. It was Fred and George, George and Fred, Gred and Forge, the Weasley Twins, partners in crime.

Now he was just George.

He watched the house below, the house in which they had grown up. The house filled with his family, the people who loved him. All of them, except that one most important person.

Lost in his thoughts, he startled when the Burrow's door creaked open, briefly spilling illumination across the grass as someone slipped out, then shut it behind them.

He was further surprised when the figure began moving towards him. He had not asked for company, he did not_ want _company. Yet the unidentified person steadily trudged their way up the hill.

Moonlight glimmered off red hair and he leant forward in a fit of mad hope, but a muttered curse as the figure slipped precariously returned him to reality. He knew that voice and it wasn't Fred.

It was Percy.

He slumped back, wondering what _he_ wanted. George no longer held a grudge against his older brother, but there was a tiny, stupid, selfish part of him that hated Percy because he had been with Fred in his last moments, and George had not.

It was stupid, but . . . he couldn't help it.

The older boy- no, _man_- finally reached the place where he sat, and dropped down beside him with surprising weariness.

"What do you want?" He had meant for it to sound unwelcoming, to send a message, but instead he simply sounded empty. Blank, like the dark, vacant window he stared at obsessively. Waiting for a light to flicker on. Waiting for a face to appear at the glass.

Percy did not speak for a while, merely gazed over the family home with him. He took a deep breath, then let it out again. Still, he remained silent.

Then he spoke.

"Remember when we were children?" He asked, but did not wait for an answer. "You and Fred would always tease me for wearing glasses. It would make me so mad."

George stiffened at the mention of Fred's name. What was Percy trying to say? He didn't want to remember!

"Remember the day you stole my glasses?"

George shook his head, even though he did. He didn't want to remember.

But Percy continued regardless. "You two ran all around the house with them, and I chased you for hours. And when mum was screaming at us for knocking over the clock and Charlie fell down the stairs when Fred ran past?" He gave a quiet, rusty laugh.

George blocked his ears in child-like defiance.

"And finally I found then on the kitchen table, and even though you were only seven you had managed to use accidental magic so that I turned into a weasel when I put them on."

"Shut up."

He laughed again. "You two laughed so hard. It was your first real prank, that day. That's when it all started."

"Stop it! Stop talking!"

"The day the greatest pranksters Hogwarts has ever known were born." He gave what seemed to be a chuckle, but suddenly George realised Percy was not laughing. He was crying.

It had never occurred to him that perhaps Percy was mourning too. He had assumed that he felt the greatest grief, that no one could match the pain caused by his loss. Fred had been his twin, so he had arrogantly made the assumption that no one could possibly feel as shattered as George did.

But now, here was proof to the contrary. Maybe . . . maybe, someone else knew how he felt?

"I'm sorry for leaving," Percy said, his voice thick with tears. "I really am. I know I already apologised, but I have to say it again. You were my little brothers, and I didn't want to see you get hurt. All I ever wanted was to protect my family. Everything I ever did was to keep you all safe. Fudge was after anyone close to Harry and Dumbledore, and I thought if I left and was loyal to him, he would leave everyone else alone. I was such a prat."

"Yeah . . ." George said quietly. "You were pretty stupid."

They both grinned quiet grins, as they watched lights flicker on in higher levels of the house.

"But I understand_. He_ understood. We didn't need to forgive you, because there was nothing to forgive. You were trying to protect the family, and we respect that . . ." He swallowed as he realised he had been talking as though Fred were still alive. Softly, he managed, "_I_ respect that."

It felt strange. He knew his tongue would never truly get used to it. But maybe that was okay.

A comfortable silence fell as both brothers remembered their childhood, the days framed by summers and sunlight and the carefree laughter of children who have never known loss. The years they spent growing up in the now old and faded house that stood before them, once vibrant with young life, now awash with memories of a better time.

A reminiscent smile tugged at George's lips as he murmured, "Didn't we have fun though?"

And Percy smiled as he replied, "Yeah. Yeah, we did."

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**I'm sorry. I was originally going to write something light/cute/fluffy, before I began planning. But noooo. I'm apparently incapable of anything of the sort. So I apologize for the angsty piece you see before you . . . XD Oh, and it's unedited, sorry about that too, I was feeling lazy.**

**(Oh yeah, IDK what floor the twin's room was on so I just chose 5****th ****randomly)**

**Please remember to review! It makes my day :D **


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